


Bad Blood

by SuburbanSun



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Character Turned Into Vampire, Gen, Halloween, Treehouse of Horrors, Trick or Treat 2015, Vampires, type story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-27 21:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5065066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuburbanSun/pseuds/SuburbanSun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Halloween’s a weird day for the 99-- and not just because of the growing bloodlust in Charles Boyle’s eyes. </p><p>It’s because of the fangs, too. The fact that he has fangs is also pretty weird.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Blood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alba17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alba17/gifts).



> Written for alba17 for the Trick or Treat Exchange! This is meant to be sort of a Treehouse of Horrors type story-- nothing that takes place precisely in canon, or has an impact on canon moving forward. 
> 
> I hope you like it! Happy Halloween!

_5:06 p.m._

Saturday was a weird day for the 99.

To be fair, Jake thought to himself as he surveyed the damage, Halloween was always a weird day for a cop. Kids in costume running up and down the streets made easy fodder for criminals, and gave the bad guys a simple way to hide. Snatch Grandma Rodriguez’s in Apt. G4’s purse, throw on a V for Vendetta mask, and no one would be the wiser.

But this? He cringed as he stepped over broken glass, gingerly walking over to Boyle’s (former) desk. Jake felt one corner of his mouth turn up in a bittersweet smile as he picked up a framed photo on Boyle’s desk. Jake and Boyle wore huge grins and matching Hawaiian shirts-- Jake thought he made them look somehow incredibly cool-- with sunglasses pushed onto their heads. It had been taken during a luau-themed pub crawl the previous April.

There wasn’t even a trace of bloodlust in Boyle’s eyes.

 _Yep_. Jake set the photo back down onto the desk. _Weird day_.

\--

_9:23 a.m., earlier that day_

“Trick or treat!” Boyle grinned down at Rosa as he held up an orange plastic Jack-o-Lantern bucket. She tore her eyes away from her computer screen long enough to look him up and down, taking in his disheveled, sandy blonde wig and wide red tie.

“Which do I have to give you to go away?”

Boyle cocked his head to the side. “Well, technically, I’ll go away after you give me either one. That’s how trick-or-treating works, Rosa.”

“Detective Boyle, Detective Diaz.” Captain Holt approached Rosa’s desk. He, too, took in Boyle’s appearance. “Donald Trump, I presume?” Boyle nodded. “Poor taste, Charles. The man’s ideas are nonsense.” He turned to Rosa. “And what are you dressed as?”

“An adult human with a job, sir.”

Holt nodded minutely. “Good for you.”

“You need something, sir?” Boyle asked, undeterred.

“Yes. There’s been a break-in over at 84 Smith Avenue. The neighbors are reporting disturbing noises coming from the apartment, and I need you two to go down and check it out.”

Boyle tossed his empty orange bucket over to his desk and tightened his tie. “On it, sir!” Then, to Rosa, as she pulled on her jacket: “Think it’s the Great Pumpkin Thief?”

She rolled her eyes. “There _is_ no Great Pumpkin Thief, Boyle. Jake made that up to get you to go buy him more candy three years ago.”

Boyle shrugged. “We’ll just have to see about that.”

\--

_10:14 a.m._

“What’s your costume, Santiago? A haunted J. Crew employee?” Jake perched on the edge of her desk, picking up a stress ball and tossing it back and forth between his hands.

“Very funny, Jake. I’ll have you know I am in costume this year.” She gestured to the American flag pin she’d fastened to the lapel of her blazer, smiling proudly. “I’m a presidential candidate.” She waved her hands, equivocating. “Not a particular candidate, of course-- I wouldn’t want to offend anyone who doesn’t share my beliefs.”

Hitchcock slurped coffee from his mug as he passed by, and interjected. “That’s funny. Boyle’s dressed as Donald Trump.”

Jake’s eyes widened, a big grin taking shape on his face. “You’re in a couple’s costume with Boyle!” he said quickly, before she could interrupt.

Amy scoffed with a grimace. “Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Well-- you’re in a couple’s costume with Scully!”

Jake’s eyes darted over to the other man, who was eating an Egg McMuffin at his desk, slumped forward in the upright wooden chair he’d brought from home because of his lumbar issues. Sure enough, the shirt-and-tie combo Scully wore was a near-perfect match to the dark blue plaid button-down and navy tie Jake had on under his leather jacket. Scully gave him a wink and a thumbs up around a mouthful of McMuffin, and Jake frowned.

“Alright, alright-- nobody in the 99 is in a couple’s costume with anybody.”

\--

_11:03 a.m._

“Still no sign of a disturbance,” called Rosa from the back bedroom of the apartment they were investigating. Boyle peered around the small kitchen, determining the same thing himself-- nothing seemed to be odd about the place.

“Isn’t it weird that the couple who lives here reported a burglary, but then was nowhere to be found once we got here?” Boyle asked. Rosa appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, shrugging.

“Sure. But they could have gotten spooked, gone to hide at a friend’s place. The actual weird thing is that nothing seems to be missing.”

Boyle followed her gaze around the apartment and nodded. “You’re right. Sweet TV, nice stereo, iPad on the coffee table… everything looks like it’s here.”

Rosa crossed her arms and leaned against the doorjamb. “There’s something off, and I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“Did you just hear something?” Boyle asked, frowning. But before she could react, there was a flash of movement from the living room-- and the world went black.

\--

_2:07 p.m._

“Peralta, have you heard anything from Boyle or Diaz?” Holt asked as he strode out of his office. He glanced at his watch and frowned. “They haven’t checked in in quite some time.”

“Nada, sir.” Jake pushed off his desk and whirled around in his chair to face him. “It is Halloween, though. Maybe they’re tracking down the Great Pumpkin Thief.” Holt’s face remained unchanged except for one quirked eyebrow. Jake chuckled nervously. “Or maybe a real thief, one that actually exists.”

“Just let me know if you hear from them,” Holt said, returning to his office.

“Will do, sir.” Jake turned back to his computer screen, flipping his tab back to “8 Skateboarding Fails” with a smile. At Skateboarding Fail #4, he noticed someone entering the precinct, and looked up to see Boyle-- wearing an oversized hooded sweatshirt over his clothes with the hood up, and sunglasses on his face. “Boyle, what happened to you? Paparazzi attack? I knew that video of you spinning in your chair ‘til you threw up would go viral!”

Boyle ignored him, retreating to his desk with little more than a grunt. Once seated, he pushed the hood back onto his shoulders but kept the sunglasses on, hunching over his computer. With a furrowed brow, Jake stood and crossed to Boyle’s desk.

“What’s up, buddy? Did you and Rosa somehow manage to solve the crime, get drunk, and get hungover in the space of a few hours?” He frowned. “Speaking of which, where is Diaz?”

Boyle shook his head quickly, face turned downward.

“Gettin’ a little worried about you, man,” said Jake. “You know I don’t like it when I get all mother hen. It betrays my cool exterior. C’mon, tell me what’s up.”

Finally, after a long moment, Boyle craned his neck to peer up at Jake. He almost looked like he was shaking, and Jake took an instinctive step back.

“Jake…” Boyle’s voice croaked. He reached up and snatched his sunglasses off his face to reveal murky red eyes-- and not the kind that came after a night of ‘ritas at Mamacita’s Tex Mex Grille, thought Jake. “Get out of here,” hissed Boyle, sliding the glasses back on his face before gripping his desk tightly with both hands.

Wide-eyed, Jake stumbled backwards, nearly knocking the homemade Detective of the Month trophy off Santiago’s desk.

 _Okay_ , he thought. _This looks bad_.

\--

_2:23 p.m._

“I’m telling you, Captain. There is something wrong with him.” Jake stood in front of Holt’s desk, face a mask of seriousness. “Isn’t is weird that Detective Diaz didn’t come back with him from that burglary investigation?”

“Perhaps.”

“And isn’t it _even weirder_ that he has _glowing red eyes_?”

Holt crossed his arms in front of him. “They glow, Peralta?”

Jake nodded solemnly. “They _glow_.”

“And just what do you think is going on? Besides Boyle coming down with a severe case of double-pink eye?”

“I don’t know, sir. But he’s also looking… pale. And he was all covered up when he came in… like he was cold, or....” Jake snapped his fingers suddenly. “The sunglasses! He’s trying to avoid the sun.”

“So you’re saying what?”

Jake took a deep breath and put his hands on his hips. “I’m saying Charles Boyle is a vampire, sir.”

\--

_2:26 p.m._

“I heard the word vampire, and I came as fast as I could,” Gina said, skidding into the Captain’s office.

“The door was closed, Gina. How did you overhear our conversation?”

She chuckled smugly, taking a seat in one of Holt’s guest chairs and crossing her legs. “I’ve got ears _everywhere_.”

Jake made a face at her. “What do you know about vampires, Gina?”

“Oh, only _everything_. Like any other young, virile woman, I went through a Twilight phase. K-Stew taught me everything I know about looking like you don’t care about anything, and R-Pattz taught me everything I could ever need to know about…” She leaned forward in her chair and lowered her voice. “ _Vampires_.”

“So what do we do?” Jake asked, at the same time as Holt said, “We can’t be sure that vampires exist.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, they exist. Just can’t be sure Boyle is one without, y’know, proof. Was he moving freakishly fast? Was he suddenly 10,000 times more attractive?”

All three of them turned to look out the window of Holt’s office door. The scene in the bullpen had escalated just a smidge, in Jake’s estimation, as Boyle stood at the reception desk with the limp body of the receptionist in his arms. Blood smeared his face, and with his sunglasses pushed onto his head, his eyes glowed even brighter red than before. Gina, Jake and Holt slowly turned back to face one another.

“Well… he’s not _sparkling_ , but…” said Gina.

“Definitely a vampire,” Jake said, nodding.

“To be sure,” responded Holt.

“Ugh,” Gina said. “I finally get the chance to put a vampire under my thrall and he’s _Charles Boyle_. Been there, done that.”

\--

_3:15 p.m._

“We’re safe in here for now,” said Holt. “And it’s lucky most of the other detectives are out on cases. But we’ve got to do something.”

Jake glanced out into the bullpen. Boyle was perched gargoyle-like on one of the spare desks, glistening fangs bared. “I’m calling Amy. She should be back any minute and I don’t want her coming in here.”

As Jake began to dial the number on his cell, Gina spoke up. “Got a time machine, Jakey?”

“Why?” He finished dialing and held the ringing phone to his ear. “So I could go back in time, take kung fu lessons as a kid instead of playing the dumb old clarinet, and then go forward in time and kick Vampire!Boyle’s ass?”

Gina looked pointedly out the window to the precinct, and Jake followed her gaze. “Nope. So you could save your little girlfriend’s life.” They both watched as Santiago entered the bullpen, eyes on her ringing phone.

“Hello?” she answered. “Why are you calling me, Jake? Aren’t you here?”

“Um, hey, Ames.” Jake’s voice sounded high-pitched to his own ears. “Don’t turn around.” He watched her furrow her brow, continuing to walk toward her desk, completely oblivious to the fact that Boyle glared at her with his blood-red eyes just a few feet away.

“Why?” She laughed. “Are you trying to sneak up on me? Because you’re doing a pretty terrible job if you’re calling to let me know first.”

“Amy, you have to listen to me,” he said. His voice was urgent now, as he felt fear trickle down the back of his neck. “Walk quickly toward Holt’s office and don’t look back. Now.”

Something in his tone must have let her know he was serious, because she widened her eyes and did what he said, striding purposefully toward the Captain’s office. Just before she could reach out for the doorknob, though, Boyle leapt from his desktop perch, swooping in front of her, his hoodie flying out behind him like a cape. She let out a scream as he hissed at her.

“Amy, no!” Jake shouted, echoed by Holt and even Gina. Amy sucked in a breath, then her face hardened, and she nailed Boyle in the stomach with a fluid roundhouse kick. He doubled over, and she took the opportunity to lunge for the door, shutting herself and the others in the office before he could recover.

“Okay. Okay.” She was breathing heavy, her gaze swinging wildly from Jake to Holt to Gina and back to Jake. “What the _hell_ happened to Charles?”

\--

_4:30 p.m._

Holt hung up the phone. “Sergeant Jeffords has the place on lockdown from the exterior,” he told the others. “Still trying to determine the best way to deal with this problem. There aren’t exactly vampire divisions in the NYPD.”

“Who even has jurisdiction over vampire crimes?” muttered Amy.

Jake rolled his eyes. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s in the handbook.” He glanced out the window again to see Boyle stalking back and forth through the bullpen, hunched over and holding one side of his hoodie over his face. “Why is he acting more and more stereotypically vampire-like as more time passes?”

“Maybe vampirism is slow-release, like my ADHD medication,” offered Gina.

“I thought you knew everything about vampirism, Gina,” said Holt.

She just shrugged. “He’s not sparkling, so all bets are off.”

Jake set his jaw. “We’ve got to _do_ something. He could get out. Or get in here somehow. Are the vents easy to crawl through?”

“Well, what do you suggest we do, Jake?” Amy asked.

He took a deep breath through his nose, then let it out slowly. “I’m going in.”

“No!”

“I have to, Amy. I’m his best friend. He’s one of my tertiary friends. If somebody has to… take care of him, it’s gotta be me.”

Holt shook his head. “Jake, I agree something needs to be done before Boyle kills any more innocent people, but we don’t have all the facts yet.”

“When have I ever had all the facts, sir?”

The older man thought for a moment. “Fair point.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Amy.

Jake turned to face her, putting one hand on either of her shoulders and looking into her eyes. “I’m going to make like a vampire bat.” She wrinkled her nose, and he sighed. “Wing it?”

“Bad joke. Even for you,” said Gina, from her spot in the corner, but even she looked a little concerned.

“Jake, I don’t think you should--” Amy started to say, but he cut her off.

“Too late!” He took one big step backward, opening the door and stepping out into the bullpen and shutting it again all in one motion. He shot Amy one last ‘yikes’ face before turning around.

Boyle had swiftly turned at the sound of the door, and watched Jake with a low growl. Jake walked slowly toward him, hands held up placatingly, and chuckled nervously.

“Hey, Boyle, buddy.”

A louder growl was the only answer.

“Are you in there, pal? Under that frankly terrifying exterior?” Jake took another step forward, faltering when Boyle lunged toward him. Jake dropped to the ground, rolling beneath his own desk and narrowly missing an encounter with Boyle’s razor-sharp teeth. “You don’t have to do this, Boyle!” he shouted.

He scooted backward and once he was out from under the desk, crouched behind it. Just as he peeked over the edge, Boyle dove across it, knocking binders, a keyboard, Jake’s three favorite bobbleheads, and a plastic toy car to the floor with a clatter. Jake ducked his head, snatching the thickest of the binders from the ground and smacking it against the side of Boyle’s head. The vampire let out an inhuman cry, cowering momentarily and allowing Jake time to dart away.

He collected himself next to reception, doing his best to avoid looking at the drained body that lay on the ground there. His gaze flew around the room looking for something-- a weapon that might actually work on a vampire. He knew from movies-- and from the Twilight books, but only the first one, and half of the second one-- that regular bullets wouldn’t work, but he thought he’d try anyway. He grabbed his gun and aimed, biting his lip.

“I don’t want to have to do this, buddy,” he said as Boyle, now recovered, advanced on him. Screwing up his face, Jake pulled the trigger once, twice, three times-- and none of the bullets did any good. Boyle barely noticed them.

“Shit.”

Boyle stalked closer, sneering so that Jake could get the full effect of his gleaming fangs.

“You just had to be a hero, didn’t you, Jake?” he muttered to himself. He shot a look at Holt’s office, where Amy, Holt and Gina watched with stricken looks on their faces. Then he looked back at Boyle, who was closing in on him. The vampire hissed. Jake whimpered.

“Hey, Jake, there was all this caution tape outside-- did you guys decide to decorate the building for Halloween or something?”

Jake swiveled his head to see Scully entering the bullpen, grasping a crumpled ball of police tape and looking confused.

“Oh, hey, Boyle,” Scully said.

“Scully, get outta here!”

The older man frowned. “Okay… I mean I just got back, but I guess I can leave again. Just let me grab a snack for the road from my snack drawer.”

“No, get out! Now!” Jake shouted, as Scully moved dangerously close to where he stood, backed against the wall by a bloodthirsty Boyle.

“Alright, alright.” Scully shook his head. “You’re getting pretty pushy, lately, you know.” He stepped closer to his desk, and then his eyes went wide and he was flying backward, the toy car from Jake’s desk shooting out across the floor from under his errant foot.

“Scully, watch out!”

Jake watched as if in slow motion as Scully flew back, landing hard on his wooden lumbar support chair. The chair collapsed under his weight, shards of polished wood flying through the air. Still in slow motion, he saw Boyle lunge for Jake’s own neck, teeth bared. Jake reached an arm out desperately, and just as Boyle’s mouth was within inches of his neck, he managed to snag a piece of the wooden chair, pulling in toward him and plunging it into Boyle’s chest in an instant.

And then all that was left of Charles Boyle was dust at Jake’s feet.

\--

_5:08 p.m._

So yeah. It was a weird day.

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” said Amy, staring down at the small pile of dust surrounded by a white chalk circle on the ground. Jake slid his arm around her shoulders comfortingly, pulling her close.

“I can’t believe I killed him.”

“This is a sad day for the 99,” said Holt, approaching them with a more grim look on his face than usual. “And frankly, a terrifying day. We now know vampires exist, and we’ve lost one of our finest detectives.”

“Oh god, two detectives!” said Amy, gasping. “He must have gotten to Rosa before he came here. Plus the receptionist.”

They all shared a solemn look. The air hung thick and silent in the bullpen as the reality of what had happened sunk in for each of them.

“Guys!” came a voice from down the hall, accompanied by two sets of running footsteps.

“Can’t you see we’re in mourning?” Gina said before shooting a glare at whoever had interrupted the moment. Her eyes widened when she saw who it was-- an out of breath Boyle, followed by Rosa. Alive, and looking remarkably human.

“Guys!”

This time, everyone turned to face the pair, eyes wide. “But you--” Jake gestured toward the pile of ash at his feet. “You’re--”

“We’ve got a problem,” said Rosa.

“Vampires,” finished Boyle. He looked meaningfully from one person to the next. “ _Shapeshifting_ vampires.”

 _Yep_ , thought Jake. _Weeeeird day_.


End file.
